“Rushed” Off Your Feet

It is Cinco de Mayo at a “Mexican” fast food chain and we’re well past as busy as humanly possible while being understaffed by three people. Since our computer system is absolutely horrible, you can place an online order for pickup or third-party delivery within six minutes of “pickup” time. The system has no idea how to account for the twenty other orders scheduled for that time.

At this point in the night, we’re running ten minutes behind on online orders. I’m literally making orders, running them up front, and calling out a name, while ignoring the line of thirty people inside (handled by other crew). It’s truly one: make food, two: run down the line, three: call out a name within earshot of the horde of people waiting for online orders and pray that people are being honest, before lather, rinse, and repeat.

On my billionth run up to the angry, hungry, unsatisfiable customers, I manage to trip, not sure over what, but I go down hard! Two seconds later, I’m on my feet, calling out the name of whoever’s food was in the bag; a woman accepts her bag and no words are exchanged. As I turn to run back to make the next order I hear, faintly, “Do you have an order for [Customer]? I’ve been waiting!” 

I call out over my shoulder as I’m running with a busted knee, “I’M MAKING ORDERS IN THE ORDER THEY WERE RECEIVED!”

She is two orders out. Upon receiving her meal, she responds, “Hey! You’re doing great!”

Not a single customer who witnessed this bothered to ask if I was okay! Meanwhile, my ankle hurts and is swollen so bad I’m not sure I can work tomorrow.